Who Cares?
by sasansan1
Summary: Everybody cares. It's a fact of all lives. Lives that are determined by just exactly what somebody cares for, and who that somebody is. An alternate take on the post-Sectionals Glee Club.
1. Tears and Broken Glass

**Disclaimer: Glee and all characters from at are not owned by me, but by Twentieth Century Fox. I do own the parts of my plot that I came up with though.**

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_*Starts from the episode 'Hell-o.' Disregards many episodes. Slightly AU Plot. Some Spoilers*  
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_Quinn's POV  
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"-and that's how I finally beat Bowser and saved the Mushroom Kingdom." finished Noah Puckerman with a satisfied smirk. He leaned against a locker, casually pushing a Freshman out of the way.

Quinn only nodded, pretending she had heard him. In reality, her eyes scanned up and down the hallway, searching. She found him- absurdly tall, face depressed- and looked away, biting her lip.

In a world that was normal and sane, Finn Hudson never looked depressed. Quinn Fabray never looked away.

He hadn't been the same since he'd found out. But then, neither had she.

Finn's slowly improving performance in sports (now basketball) had plummeted once more, and Quinn, already slightly withdrawn due to her situation, barely talked to anyone.

Not that she had many people to talk to anymore. It was basically the Glee Club- even though Santana and Brittany didn't acknowledge her outside of their meetings- and Miss Pillsbury.

Her once carefully cultivated social empire crumbled, and her GPA had jumped to a perfect 4.0 as she used some of her now copious amounts of free time studying, for want of something to do. When she wasn't studying (which was still fairly often), she was singing. Always singing. She wasn't even sure why she sang so much, at least, not consciously.

Her subconscious, however, knew exactly why.

The way Quinn Fabray's subconscious reasoned things out, was that if she got good enough, Mr. Schue would start giving her female leads.

Occasionally, female leads would get duets. With male leads. With Finn.

Of course, beating out Berry would take a lot of practice, but she was used to it. If Sue Sylvester's Cheerio Dictatorship had taught her one thing, it was how to practice hard. How to prepare to win.

And besides, at rock bottom, there was nowhere else but up.

Now that she had lost everything, things that were truly important to her had become painstakingly clear. Her popularity had been nothing more than a shield, her insecurity's attempt at hiding what she believed to be her faults from those in her life.

Only with Finn had she let that shield slip, just a little, and taken steps towards being herself.

Only with Finn could she be silly, and have fun.

And now he was gone.

She closed her eyes tightly, willing the tears not to fall. Too late, she felt the hot drop slip down her cheek and fall off her chin.

"Babe?" asked Puck, concern in his voice "Whatever I said, I'm sorry."

He wrapped her in a hug, and more tears leaked out because, as sweet as he could be, there was a different set of arms that she longed for. A different person that her heart belonged to.

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_Finn's POV_

And there was Puck. Hugging her.

Finn clenched his jaw, a bitter taste in his mouth, and resisted the urge to punch a locker, or better yet, to punch _him_.

Then, just as quickly as it had flared up, the intensity of his temper was gone, replaced by the same dull, slighty numb sadness that he'd been in since the end of Sectionals.

He had some idea that people were concerned for him- his Mom, his friends, Mr. Schue, Glee Club- yet in the same thought, he couldn't find the will power to care.

Finn wondered briefly if this was what being a ghost was like, but then figured it wasn't, because ghosts could walk through walls.

Sinking back into the numbness that hurt so much less, Finn started walking to class again, people parting around his tall figure.

Then he heard her. Her soft voice cut through the haze, right to his heart.

"It's alright Puck, It's not your fault."

The rage and pain was sudden, intense and all consuming. It _was _his fault. _Everything_ was his fault. How could she-?

He froze right there in the middle of the hall, and not even Karofsky could look at him as he passed with a slushie. Wise of him. Finn's entire body shook with suppressed emotion, his large hands trembled and shook. He had to get out of here _now_. He didn't care that he'd miss the entire day of school. He didn't care that he had Glee later. He didn't care about _anything, _with one outstanding and painful exception.

So of course Rachel picked this time to appear at his shoulder like some sort of irritating squirrel.

He was the nut of course.

"Finn!" she beamed, oblivious "I just wanted to inform you that I've had matching his and hers calendars made. Now you can't say that you forgot when you miss our dates anymore. If you look over here," she held up the thin object and gestured with a manicured nail "you can see that we-"

He turned away. All he saw was the door down the hall.

"Finn!" she yelled again, this time shocked and offended. "As a high maintenance rising star, I have needs to be met. And what I _need_ is for you to pay more attention to me and less to-"

"_Don't_ say it," he rounded on her, towering over her already small figure. The expression on his face was terrible to behold, and the entire hall stopped moving. Students instantly adjusted themselves to a safe distance. Most of them knew what was about to happen, an event which constant tales had elevated to a near-Mythical status.

Finn Hudson was a nice guy. This was a widely known fact. Another widely known fact was that he had a breaking point, and once it was reached, Finn exploded. It had happened twice, once in 2nd grade and again in 7th. Each time had resulted in something broken, be it a wooden desk or an arm.

And for Finn Hudson, it was exploding time.

He slapped the calendar from her hand. It struck the wall with a sharp _smack! _She gave an '_eep_' of fear._  
_

"I'm- i'm _tired _of all of this! I'm tired of having to- of having to _care _for everything. Of all this _responsibility_. Football, Glee, the- the baby. I couldn't even take a break cause they all needed me and now- now I don't have to be the bigger person, now I have a _chance_. But _you," _and he pointed an accusing finger at Rachel, "you're trying to give me _more_ things to do when that's the _last_ thing I want. All I want," his voice cracked on the last word and he stopped to take a shuddering breath, "all I want is a break."

"Now Finn, I know that you've been through some, frankly, horrible times but," Rachel began again after a shocked silence. Her voice was soft and understanding now; she'd made the change from obnoxious, bossy Rachel to understanding, empathetic Rachel.

And right now it irritated the crap out of Finn.

He looked her dead in the eye as the psychologically sound reasoning fell on deaf ears, "Rachel. I don't care." Then he spun around and left. The still-silent students of McKinley High tripped over each other trying to get out of his way.

Rachel gulped loudly and teared up, making her look like some kind of Jewish frog.

The first tear rolled down her cheek at the same time Finn reached the door, ripping it open. The glass cracked in a spiderweb pattern from the force of him slamming it open and against the wall of lockers.

But Finn didn't care.

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**AN: So... How was it? Feedback away, but please don't flame. Because, as we all know, every time a flame is posted a writer dies a little inside. My main goal for this is to just have all the characters stay... In character.**


	2. Nobody Wins at Life

**Disclaimer: I, unfortunately, do not own Glee. It's owned by Fox. I'm not Fox. Erego jah disclaimer right here. **

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He took in his first breathe out of the door like a drowning man taking in oxygen. Hands on his knees, Finn panted for a few seconds before jerking up and turning to walk to his car.

"Excuse me but just where do you think you're going?" came a firm, slightly harsh voice from behind him.

He halted and pivoted slowly, to look into the ice-blue eyes of Champion Cheerleading Coach Sue Sylvester as she walked around from the side of the school. Looking past her, he could make out the slogan 'Fight Choir with Fire,' with a little picture of a flamethrower scribbled underneath it.

"H-home Ms. Sylvester, don't feel to well," he said, kind of rubbing his stomach and giving a half-hearted grimace.

"Really? Sure you're not sneaking out to go audition for a Green Giant commercial?" He shook his head, "No? Good. You don't have the talent to occupy a role so closely related to one Sue Sylvester," she hooked a thumb to her chest. "You wanna know why that Giant's a man and not a woman?"

Finn nodded his head slowly.

"It's because the only suitable woman candidate was _me_, and that sad and unfortunately named excuse for a housewife Betty Crocker didn't have the guts to change it up."

"Ms. Sylvester, I don't think Betty Crocker is a real person."

"Yeah well they said denim was dead too, but look at your mother."

Finn nodded his head absentmindedly, not really hearing her, "That's great. So, um, look Ms. Sylvester, can I go now?"

"How _dare _you. The only person I permitted to ask me questions went by the name of one Walter Cronkite. Take a seat kiddo." She cast her eyes to a the low wall that bordered the walkway. Finn shuffled over and sat down, rubbing his eyes, "Is this gonna take long, cause I _really_ want to- I mean, I feel really sick." He spoke in a rush, not looking at her.

Not that it really mattered, she ignored him.

She pointed, either at the shattered window or the student body intently peering out of it, Finn wasn't sure "What is _that_ all about?"

He spluttered "W-well what uh, what happened-"

Sue cut him off, "Never mind, I just remembered that I don't care. Huh," she bit her bottom lip, "you know what I don't get?"

"Not rea-"

"Nothing. I know absolutely everything I need to know."

"Oka-"

She held up a hand, "Dear God, I can hear the wind whistling through the tiny holes made by tunnels formed in his gelled hair. Alright," she clapped her hands once, "this discussion gave me a nice view into the mundane world of your life, but," she peered into the window again, "if you don't want to deal with the man I so detest, then I suggest you get a move on."

Finn's forehead crinkled for a moment before smoothing out in realization; she was letting him go.

He stood up and gave her a small smile, "Miss Sylvester? Thanks." She inclined her head and shrugged, "Well it's not exactly a fair match. You're alone in your corner and," she looked away "I love me an underdog."

He stared at her, perplexed, before walking to his car with long lanky strides. He ripped open the door; thankfully the car started on the first try. Finn gave her another tiny grin as he passed by.

Sue watched him go, a frank, rather concerned, expression on her features. She composed herself when the sound of hurried footsteps started getting louder.

Just as the beat up truck screeched around the turn, Schuester sprinted out the door, followed closely by a huffing and puffing Figgins.

Will ran up to Sue and leaned in close, "Sue," he hissed, "what _was_ that? You just let him _leave?_"

"I'd like to know the answer *gasp* to that question as well," bleated Figgins, although he sounded less concerned and more indignant.

"Okay Glee Club is one member short today, so _what_. It's not like that pack of rabid wildebeest actually _matter_," she said dismissively.

"That boy has caused considerable damage to this school Sue! Our budget just, can't, handle it," said Figgins testily.

"Oh this school's terrible, I'm the only thing that makes it any good," she looked away, her tone implying that this was the most obvious thing ever.

"That is nonsense, William McKinley High is very highly ranked within the Ohio public school system!" protested the Principal.

"Really now? Well that explains a lot. You know buddy," she shrugged, "I finally figured out how you won Sectionals."

"Sue-," followed Schuester, but she cut him off.

"Can it, William, don't talk to me with that disgusted tone I won't allow it. Now you may be wondering why I let the boy with the overactive pituitary gland go."

Figgins bobbed his head as Will inhaled sharply through clenched teeth.

"Now as you all know I have my doctorate in Psychology," she looked around for approval.

"You got that onli-" started Schuester again, but Figgins stopped him with a firm, "Will."

"And my professional evaluation was that that grotesquely stretched boy," she jerked a finger in the direction Finn had gone, "just needed some alone time- probably to deal with intense psychosis caused by his association to _Glee Club_."

"Be that as it may Sue," said Figgins, "it is still not within your powers to allow a young vandal like that to escape justice!"

"Oh now you're talking nonsense too- I do what I want, when I want, and," she gave a little smirk, "no one's gonna stop me. Just like no amount of intervention by BP is gonna stop the oil slick that's _all over_ your hair." She looked at the Spanish teacher's curls with mock concern.

" William," he inclined his head to her with pursed lips, "try your best to violently pass away. Feel free to take offense but if I don't leave soon I'm going to be violently ill. Ciao boys."

She turned to leave, pumping a fist in the air. Will growled while Figgins called after, "Watch it Sue, you are _still newly reinstated_." She opened the unbroken door and kept walking as though she hadn't heard.

Students moved out of her way even faster than they had for Finn, and anyone who was too slow got shoved down by the Cheerleading Coach.

Will and Figgins let out simultaneous long sighs.

In her office, Sue unscrewed her protein bottle, smirking the whole time. _Battle always finds a warrior,_ she thought to herself.

And once again, she had won.

* * *

Finn took a deep breath, before opening the front door as quietly as possible. It creaked.

He cussed quietly, piece of crap.

"Finn?" came his mom's voice from somewhere in the house, "Honey is that you?" The clinking of dishes echoed from their small downstairs kitchen.

He didn't say anything, just swiftly walked up the stairs and shut his door. The click of the lock echoed abnormally loud in his small room.

"Finn what's wrong?" asked his mother from outside the door. He frowned; he hadn't heard her follow him up.

"Finn-" she started, but then the phone rang from downstairs. The cheery Christmas tunes that they had never got around to changing seemed at odds with the situation. He could almost hear her hesitate, "Finn... I'll be right back." He understood; it was her way of telling him to not do anything stupid.

Quick footsteps sounded down the stairs, then, only seconds later, heavier ones came back up. Finn didn't think anything of it.

He threw himself on the bed, burying his head in a pillow, only to come back up groaning in frustration. It _still_ smelled like her. _How_ did it still smell like her?

He sprang off, he couldn't _deal_ with this right now. Finn glared at the bed for a brief second before bending down, sliding his hands into the crack where his mattress met the bed frame. He heaved, letting his bed hit the wall with a muffled thud.

The blankets and pillows were scattered across the ground. With unnecessarily hard kicks, he sent them all to the corner farthest away from him.

But the smell was all over the room, now that he'd stirred it up. Without even pausing to consider the pros and cons of it (not that he normally did that, or even knew what that meant) Finn opened the door, stepping into the hallway.

Straight into a sizable man wearing a light blue and white baseball cap.

Before either of them could blink Finn had the guy pinned to the wall by his flannel collars.

_Slam_!

The few pictures hanging in the hallway shook. His light face was pale and growing paler. Why was his life such_ a joke?_

"Finn," the man choked out, raising his hands palms up, "let me explain."

"Explain _what?"_ his eyes were wild, crazy, he slammed the guy against the wall again, "Like why the hell you're _in_ _my house?_!"

The man looked him in the eyes; defiant. "Yeah that sounds about right."

Finn's glare sharpened, and his hands tightened further. The guy's shirt cut into his neck on both sides, and for one terrible second Finn thought he was going to throw him down the stairs. Thought he was going to pick this person up- someone he didn't even know- and give his best effort to end a life.

But his mom was okay. And Finn was okay. And even like... _this_, Finn could never kill a guy. Sure, maybe falling a story wouldn't kill him, but still. It was about the principle or something like that.

Whatever they were, Finn had them. He _knew_ he had them. In fact they were pretty much _all_ he had now.

The fire went out, leaving him feeling cold and detached. Finn blinked hard, scrunching up his face. It helped him to think, to concentrate.

"Fine," he said abruptly, and his grip eased- though the guy still wasn't going anywhere. The man breathed a small sigh of relief.

"I'm Kurt's Dad; Burt Hummel," he said quickly, and a little hoarsely. Finn had a strong grip.

Confusion wrinkled his forehead, Kurt's... Dad? It had never really occurred to him that Kurt might have a dad. For some reason, Finn had only imagined- when Kurt mentioned his home life- a Mom.

Or, like, a unicorn or something.

But if he _had_ pictured Kurt's dad, he certainly wouldn't have looked anything like this man. Because this guy was pretty badass. Chuck Norris level badass, in fact. Wide shoulders, 5 o'clock shadow, and eyes that seemed to say 'I've been through worse'. Even his clothes screamed it; worn jeans, a shirt stained with car oil, and a sports related hat. He didn't even look like he'd _heard_ of the word 'showtunes' before, and yet it was most of his son's life.

Wait.

Shit.

Kurt's _Dad_.

Finn let go so quickly he cracked three knuckles. The bottom dropped out of his stomach, he felt instantly ashamed.

Nameless strangers were one thing, but _friend's parents?_

Completely out of line.

"S-sorry Mr. Hummel, I just..." he shrugged helplessly, looking down and away.

"Don't worry about it, hey," he laid a hand on Finn's shoulder "if I caught some random guy in my house, I'd wanna knock his lights out too."

Finn gave a weak, uncomfortable chuckle, "Yeah." He looked around for a second, brows furrowed. There had been something else...

Oh. That's right. "Wait," Kurt's Dad's wandering eyes focused back on him as Finn spoke, "so why are you here again?"

Now Mr. Hummel was the one looking uncomfortable. "Well the thing is Finn..." he trailed off, thinking about how best to put it and leaving Finn with a look that was 2 parts worried and 1 part confused.

_Oh no_, he thought suddenly. This was bad. He could feel it. This was how it had felt a lifetime ago, standing at the lockers with Rachel before her words brought his life crashing down around his head.

"... I'm seeing your Mother."

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**Author's Note: The next chapter is gonna be super gnarly. Super angsty. I can feel it. I actually think this chapter turned out pretty interesting. I was going to have Finn's Mom talk to him, and then end the chapter with Mr. Schue or Santana coming over, but hey. Look. There's Burt. Tell me what you think, and most importantly if I stayed in character. Oh, and don't be surprised if this turns into a Fanta (Finn/Santana) fic. I dig Fanta.**


	3. It's Weird, Caught Between Stops and Gos

**Disclaimer: Hey. I'm not Fox. So, I don't own Glee. Meaning that this all belongs to them, and I'm just making a story up out of it. FML.**

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**_Slam!_

Against the wall.

_Slam!_

The wall again.

_Slam! Crack!_

The drywall caved in.

_Slam! Thump!_

The floor now.

_Thump!_

On the floor again.

_Thump! Crash!_

A picture fell.

_Pack! Pack! Pack!_

He started punching.

_Thump thump thump thump thump._

Footsteps up the stairs.

"Finn did you hear that- Burt? Finn? FINN!"

His mother was there.

She was frantically trying to push him away, screaming at him. His arms were still moving though, still flying out and trying to hit something.

But this was his _mom_, if he hit her...

He couldn't. Couldn't hit her. He _had _to stop. Had to.

It was weird, thought a very small, calm, part of Finn's brain. He had to keep going, but at the same time, he had to stop.

He stopped.

He let her push him against the wall, made an effort to listen "-ou just need to leave right now Finn! You just need to- to go out, and-and you need to calm down. You need to _think._"

He stayed there, frozen, looking at her like he couldn't understand what she was saying. She fluttered her hands around him, "Go, honey, go, you have to go. I love you but you need to get out of the house, just- just go." She was sobbing and yelling and trying to keep it together all at the same time, more hysterical than he'd ever seen her.

Finn stayed for a second before turning around slowly. His head felt like it was a foot higher than normal, his hands were strangely heavy. She told him she loved him one more time, then hurried over to tend to Burt.

He paused and turned his head back.

Carole had helped Kurt's Dad into a sitting position, and was dabbing the blood on his face as it dripped down onto his clothes. Finn glanced down at his own hands; the knuckles were bruised a dark purple, several of them looked out of alignment. The scarlet liquid was all over his hands, some of it splattered on his clothes.

He hurtled down the stairs and out of the house in 4 seconds flat, pausing only to grab his keys. This entire thing was suddenly sickening; he felt the urge to throw up, but he didn't. He wanted to get the farthest away as fast as possible and that would only slow him down.

The old tires on his older truck left skid marks in the asphalt.

Finn drove with a single minded purpose. Yet again he couldn't stop, because if he stopped focusing on the road, he'd start to think. And if he started to think-.

Well. He couldn't stop.

But he was out of the housing by now, onto the highway. The road evened out, and Finn was just cruising. Without sketchy potholes and sharp turns, his mind was more free.

And this was a problem.

Desperately, Finn turned on the radio. It crackled to life.

-_eady hands, just take the wheel..._  
_ And every glance is killing me_  
_ Time to make one last appeal... for the life I lead_

Finn shook his head slightly. He knew this song, and he couldn't listen to it, not right now. It was too close to home.

He reached out his hand; it hovered over the dial.

But he couldn't change it.

_ Stop and stare_  
_ I think I'm moving but I go nowhere_  
_ Yeah I know that everyone gets scared_  
_ But I've become what I can't be, oh_  
_ Stop and stare_  
_ You start to wonder why you're here not there_  
_ And you'd give anything to get what's fair_  
_ But fair ain't what you really need_  
_ Oh, can you see what I see_

The lyrics jogged memories, memories he didn't want to see.

Quinn's smile after they'd kiss. The way it would shift to Puck.

Quinn's tears on his shirt. His blind assurance with her hot tub explanation.

Quinn's face when he broke up with her. Her voice when she tried to apologize.

Quinn, Quinn, Quinn._  
_

Angrily, Finn tried to wipe away the unwanted tears and pulled over to the side; it was getting too hard to drive. He started humming to drown out the sound of her voice in his ears._  
_

_ They're tryin' to come back, all my senses push_  
_ Un-tie the weight bags, I never thought I could..._  
_ Steady feet, don't fail me now_  
_ Gonna run till you can't walk_  
_ But something pulls my focus out_  
_ And I'm standing down..._

The humming wasn't working, he started singing._  
_

_ Stop and stare_  
_ I think I'm moving but I go nowhere_  
_ Yeah I know that everyone gets scared_  
_ But I've become what I can't be, oh_

The memories had stopped. But he kept going._  
_

_Stop and stare_  
_ You start to wonder why you're here not there_  
_ And you'd give anything to get what's fair_  
_ But fair ain't what you really need_  
_ Oh, you don't need_

_ What you need, what you need..._

_ Stop and stare_  
_ I think I'm moving but I go nowhere_  
_ Yeah I know that everyone gets scared_  
_ But I've become what I can't be_  
_ Oh, do you see what I see..._

His last notes echoed for a second in his car's metal cab. Suddenly he realized that he was squeezing the steering wheel, and it _hurt_.

Wincing as he let go, Finn examined his hands. He'd had his them hurt before- it was unavoidable as a Quarterback- but even Finn was a little shocked at that damage.

His left pinky was crooked and his knuckles were swollen and purple. Finn tried flexing his fingers, and pain stabbed in several areas- he was pretty sure that meant they were broken.

Well he couldn't drive to the hospital, and he couldn't dial a phone. So opened the door to go for help.

The first time, he tried opening it normally. He couldn't bend most of his fingers around the handle.

The second time was a little more successful, but he jammed his broken pinky and yelled.

The last time was a success. He curled his good fingers, pulled the handle and pushed with his feet. It opened.

Finn swung out his long legs and tried to stand. He wobbled- a little dizzy from pain- and put his palm on the side of his truck to steady himself. He looked at the trees across the road as their trunks bent under a strong wind. A slight whistling sounded in his ears; he frowned, for some reason, that sound put him on edge.

Just then the door slammed shut on the tortured fingers of his right hand.

Finn screamed once, a strangled noise, then passed out.

* * *

"Finn," said a voice from beyond the blackness. It sounded far away.

"Finn," it repeated, a little firmer. It sounded a little closer. He groaned, hoping they'd get the message.

"_Finn_," it said again, starting to sound irritated. Definitely closer, coming from his right. He turned his head away, hiding it under the pillow.

"Finn Hudson, I have no problem leaving. I don't _have_ to be here you know."

He kept laying there.

"Fine," said the voice, "you can ask the _other_ person here about what happened after you had your little fainting episode. And for your information, there's _no one _else here."

He made an effort. He sat up a little and looked once before slamming his eyelids shut. The oddly bright light hurt, and he felt a headache starting to pound against his temples. "Where... where am I?" His tongue felt heavy.

"Um, the hospital? Seriously, just use your eyes."

Finn tried more slowly this time. Little by little, he opened his eyes. Belatedly, he realized why it was so bright; everything was white. Walls, ceilings, floors; everything. The artificial lights reflected off of them, like sun off of snow.

"See?" said the voice, "Hospital. Now can we like, hurry up, because I want to go."

He looked to the right, to see who it was that had been talking all this time.

Sitting on a chair, legs and arms crossed, with pursed lips and a cocked head was a person wearing a red Cheerios uniform.

For a second, he was sure he must be dreaming, because of all the people he could've woken up to find sitting next to his hospital bed, it wasn't this one.

"... Santana?"

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**Author's Note: So... how was that? This is seriously when I decide what line I'm gonna rock. Fuinn or Fanta. Fuinn would be shorter, cause making a Fanta's gonna take some serious development. Either way, it's going to be badass.  
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**Secondly, how do you think this was? Characters in character? Drop me a review. Go for it brahhh.**

**Oh, and I don't know how the updates are gonna be. Once a week or so, I started football.  
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	4. Waking Up to Fruit Punch Needles

**Disclaimer: Glee and its characters are owned by Ryan Murphy and Fox- those bastards. Except, not, because they're pretty nuts. But, my story and plot are mine, so, bomb.  
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"Duh," said the Latina girl, cocking her head to the other side.

"But..." ...why are _you _here?

Finn paused, trying to figure out how to say that without getting her mad. Then he remembered that this was Santana; _everything_ seemed to get her mad.

His brow creased in thought while he tried to think of what actually made her _happy_, oblivious to the look she was giving him that questioned his already questionable mental abilities.

The list he came up with was depressingly short; Glee, Cheerios, and guys. With a slight start, he realized this mirrored his own life, just with the manly counterparts- sports and girls- to cheerleading and guys.

What did that say about him? Was he like her? She was, to the best of his knowledge, a bitch. Was he a... _bitch_, too? He could be, he realized.

All those people he'd hurt in so many different ways.

Rachel, Kurt's dad, his mom. And that was only recently, the list stretched on and on.

He _was _a bitch. He was. The thought sickened him.

"I _am _a bitch," he said out loud, his face at one time guilty and self-loathing.

Santana shook her head for a second like she couldn't believe what she was hearing, "You're- pff- _what the _hell_, Hudson,_" she said scornfully. Only _he_ would have such _pointless_ shit to whine about.

"Don't you _get it_?" he said angrily, choosing to glare at a wall instead of look at her.

Of course she did; he was guilty over all that crap he pulled. But she wasn't about to _tell_ him that. "Uh, what's there to get?" She said the words like she was talking to some obnoxious toddler.

He moved his glare from the wall to her face, "We're _both_ bitches. Hell, half the people in _Glee Club_ is. A-and there's the football team, the hockey team, Cheerios... Most of the freaking _school_."

"So _what?_" she spat, "We _all_ give people shit. It's just, part of being on the food chain." she finished matter-of-factly with a smirk. _Being on _top_ of the food chain_, she corrected mentally.

"So-so what?" he repeated softly while she recrossed arms, "We're..." he shook his head and blew out some air with a 'pff,' "..we're all... _terrible_ people. Doesn't that _bother you_?" His eyes were wide, more shocked than angry now.

She looked at him like he was something disgusting she found on the bottom of her shoes. "Um, _no_. Does it bother _you?_ Because we both know it never _used_ to, and you know what? I'm pretty sure it _still_ doesn't. So cut the crap Hudson, what's this _really_ about?" Her expression dared him to argue.

"Th-that's ridiculous!" He had that angry and horrified look on his face, Santana observed. The one he'd had when Quinn spilled the beans on babygate all over his potato head.

"Really?" she questioned coolly, "Because I'm pretty sure the person that slapped a calendar out of some _rejects_ hand, and _then_ beat up a gay kid's dad, was _you_, Finn."

He opened and closed his mouth, speechless. She leered at him with almond shaped eyes. "It-it wasn't like that," he stammered guiltily, once he was able to talk again.

"Sure," she said sweetly, her mouth curving into a cat-like grin.

"_Stop_ doing that okay it's _not _like that!_ I'm_ not like that!"

She huffed in irritation and uncurled her arms to look pointedly at her nails.

"_Just _stop _already, that's _not_ me!_" he roared, the yell echoing strangely in the small room. Every time Finn got worked up like this, he'd been fortunate enough to have an escape. Doors, cars and stuff.

But right now, he was stuck on this _stupid_ bed. He had to get out of here and away from her, walk it off, get some breathing room.

It didn't help that each insult had been grounded in truth.

Santana fought to keep her face steady through the surprise when Finn tried to get out of the bed. The metal frame hit the wall with a _bang!_

There was the '_pat pat pat'_ of hurried footsteps from outside the door before a middle-aged doctor with salt and pepper hair barged into the room.

He took one look at Finn, swinging his legs out of bed, and pinned him back down against his mattress using his own body weight as leverage.

"Stay back!" the doctor warned, sparing Santana a brief glance before putting his full attention on his patient. She nodded quickly, eyes wide; this was... unexpected. But he'd probably just say some stern little words and set him straight, like a mother would a child. She smirked a little.

"Mr. Hudson," his tones were cool and professional, "we need you to calm down right now. Is there a problem, anything hurting you?"

"I just," Finn's face was red with exertion as he continued to strain against the man "need to *_gasp_* go for a walk."

"I'm afraid that's not possible right now," replied the doctor evenly, "but are you hungry, tired-"

"_No_ I just need to go for a walk!" Finn yelled. He started thrashing even harder under the older man's grip.

"Mr. Hudson," repeated the doctor, his tones hardening, "you need to get back in that bed."

"_No_," grunted Finn against the weight on his chest, "_Let. Me. Up_"

"Mr. Hudson this is your last chance-"

Santana never even considered the idea that he'd disobey.

"_Let me _up!"

Oh shit, she thought suddenly. Oh shit oh shit oh shit shit _shit._ What was Hudson _doing?_

It all happened very fast from there.

The doctor pinned Finn under his left arm while his right went behind his back. With a quick motion that came from years of practice, the doctor drew and uncapped sterilized needle from a pocket. It made no sound when it plunged into the skin of Finn's shoulder, no sound as the doctor pushed the plunger in, and no sound as it deposited its contents into Finn's blood stream.

The effect's, however, were nearly instantaneous.

Several seconds, and Finn's struggles began to weaken.

A few more, and his body went limp. The doctor slowly eased his weight off, stopping briefly to gauge Finn's reaction. He needn't have worried, Finn just lied there, half on half off the bed, chest heaving.

The older man stood up, walked to a red bin on the wall to discard the needle, then back to the bed to move Finn into a more conventional sleeping position. He gave the Cheerio a quick nod before walking out the door. There was a small _click _as it shut.

The entire time Santana sat, her eyes fixed on Finn.

Trust him to choose _this_ moment to grow some.

For as long as she could remember, he'd always been the happy go lucky kid. Popular without even trying. The fact that he was just so _good_ at everything had always irritated her, and his whole 'poor me' attitude earlier just made her snap. What right did he have to complain about when for so long he'd had it easy?

Which had always been her problem of course, she never could keep her cool for very long. It's why blondie had been Head Cheerio, even though Santana positively _slaughtered_ her in choreography. Quinn had that calm, aloof personality; leadership material, apparently.

But now that she _did_ think, she realized that of all people, Hudson really didn't deserve this. For the last month, his life had been one solid piece of crap. No more Golden Boy status, no more girlfriend, and no more best friend. It was no wonder he was so freaking _angsty_.

She was startled out of her thoughts by a low voice. "It's... _not_ me. It's not." He was _still_ bitching about it, but he just looked so pathetic she couldn't bring herself to be mean.

"Just go to sleep Hudson," she said, though without the edge her voice normally carried.

"I'm tired," he said, sounding a little surprised.

"Duh," she smirked, though not unkindly, "that wasn't exactly full of fruit juice."

He laughed a little, eyes already beginning to droop. "I like fruit juice, especially... 'specially fruit punch. 'Cause you know you get all of the... all o'the fruits." His speech was starting to slur.

She gave a small smile even as she rolled her eyes; he was _so_ stupid. "Yeah, me too."

"Hawaiian Punch?"

"Oh my god yes."

"Mmm," he smiled blearily, licking his lips. She laughed, _laughed._ A real one, not directed at anybody's clothes or their hair; first time the entire day. His eyes were almost closed now, and she was shocked to find she was a little sad.

She wouldn't have minded talking a little longer.

"Santana?" he mumbled suddenly.

"What?"

"I'm really not... not like that..."

The smile left her lips, "I know," she whispered softly "now go to sleep Hudson."

He smiled, eyes already closed, "Kay," he breathed out, so quietly she wasn't sure he'd said it. And then he was gone, breathing deeply, asleep.

* * *

It wasn't until she was in the car driving home that she realized this was the first time she'd actually _spoken_ to Finn Hudson.

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**Author's Note**: **Sorry about the long update. I broke my pointer finger during football practice, so typing's been a little slow. Plus summer school is just lameee.**

**But how was this? I tried to keep it as much in character as possible, but this was a lot of unkown territory so... yeah. I took a lot of Finn's rant attitude from the one he gave to the football guys when he found Artie in the port-a-potty. And Santana, I don't even know. I just tried haha. Comment, review, opinon, whatevers.  
**


	5. Change After Change

**Disclaimahhhh: Glee owned by Ryan Murphy and Fox and stuff, alright nothing new let'ssss go.**

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Pregnancy changed a lot of things for Quinn Fabray.

Image, status, friends and enemies alike, the scandal just picked them up, blew them around, and reshuffled them in a different order, an order more pleasing to some.

She, by some karmic force, had drawn the shortest of the short sticks, had taken the hardest hit, had fallen the farthest.

So yeah, you could say she was pissed. And depressed. And guilty. And lonely. And this whole slew of other emotions boosted by unruly pregnancy hormones.

But through this storm, there was an eye of calm. Something that kept her from going completely crazy when the jocks threw slushies at her and duck taped her locker closed. Something to keep her from crying when Finn walked down the hall and refused to look in her direction. Something that kept her from screaming at the Cheerios who gave her dirty looks and drew exaggerated pictures on the bathroom stalls.

Her baby.

Her little... well, she didn't exactly have a name for her yet, and she mostly likely never would. That was one of the things about adoption; you didn't make the choices anymore. That was the _point_ of it, really. To take away the choices you didn't want to make, the responsibility you didn't need.

If only it were that easy. This wasn't a work shift you could give to someone at your convenience, it was a living, breathing human being. A baby, a child. A bastard child maybe, but bastard or not, this baby was _hers_.

And she loved her. So, _so_, much. Which was why she had to give her up.

From most people's standpoint, the baby was the cause of all this hurt, all these problems. Quinn knew better.

This was her fault. _Entirely_ her fault.

She didn't even blame Puck. It wasn't that she _couldn't_ blame him- god knew she had plenty of reasons to- she just didn't want to hurt _any_ more people. Even if it was Puck.

At least, this was what she rationalized when she walked away from him after Glee that one, earth-shattering day. So, after 20 minutes of what had to be the most awkward car ride ever, she had found herself walking through the doorway of the Puckerman household.

_Mozeltov_.

It was a word she had taken to repeating sarcastically in her head over the past few weeks.

"Why couldn't it have been a nice Jewish girl..." his mom would grumble when Quinn walked by.

_Mozeltov_.

"Babe, come on, I couldn't help it," Puck would plead when she'd catch him making out under the bleachers, or in the back of the school, or in his car. And then he'd make up some lie claiming how he'd had no choice- even though they knew he did- and how _she_ came on to him- even though she probably didn't- and say it all with such smooth assurance- even though they both knew that it was complete bullshit.

_Mozeltov_.

And now she was watching Rachel Berry march towards her, the look on her face saying she had a _lot_ to talk about.

_Mozeltov_.

Oh god _why_ couldn't she have just walked into Glee without anyone noticing? Oh right, because she was the size of a small whale.

"Quinn!" the singer called her name like she was just the person she wanted to see, then dropped her voice to a conspiratorial whisper, "Have you heard?"

"Heard what?" she replied in a flat voice, while Rachel steered her towards the side of the piano.

Heard that Finn had freaked out on her today, and basically told her to leave him alone? Because yes, she had heard that, she was standing right there after all. But if Rachel had pulled her aside to have someone to agonize and cry to, then she could go find support and comfort from someone else's shoulder. Quinn had enough problems of her own; _especially_ Finn problems.

"I have on good sources (which would be Mr. Schue, thought Quinn) that Finn-" she gulped, stopping to look around like she was about to reveal something of national importance.

_God_ she was such a drama queen. Quinn wondered what was going to come next; that Finn was a prince in hiding, that Finn lived underneath a theatre, that Finn knew the location of El Dorado. She wouldn't have been surprised, because out of the three things that made up Rachel Berry, a love of Broadway and Broadway-esque drama was one. The other two were her voice and her nose, naturally.

"-is currently in the hospital. Now, I don't know the exact details yet but as co-captain I _do _expect to be filled in shortly. In the mean time, I've come up with several likely scenarios that I'd like to run by you, if you don't mind..." She closed her eyes, like she was collecting her thoughts, "Okay," she spoke in movie-director tones "picture this; after Finn stormed out this morning, one can only _imagine_ his mindset. The guilt he must have felt for yelling at me, the fear that- Quinn? Quinn?"

Quinn wasn't listening. Well, to be fair, she wasn't listening to it anyway, but when the brunette said that Finn was in the hospital, Quinn's world rocked 30 degrees counter-clockwise. She used to think it was weird how much power he still had over her, how in tune to him she still was. Like sometimes when Puck was holding her, she'd shift slightly, leaning her head back, because Finn liked to lay surprise kisses on her forehead. But Puck would just give her a questioning glance, then shrug and look somewhere else.

Or the radio in Puck's room that was set to the exact same stations as the ones in Finn's car, because Quinn had liked the same music. Sure Puck would change them most mornings, but Quinn would quietly change it back.

And now that Finn was in the hospital, Quinn found herself wondering why she didn't sense this. Not that she thought she was a gyspy- hell no- it just used to comfort her to think that maybe the bonds between her and her ex boyfriend were something above and beyond. To think that God had given them a little something extra, something to show that they really did belong together.

But when Rachel said that Finn was in the hospital, Quinn didn't feel anything unusual. Sure, she felt worried and desperate and everything else she would normally feel, but there was no tug in her gut, no sudden urges to get to his side.

So as she sat down in Glee Club with her fellow members whirling and gossiping around her, Quinn Fabray found herself wondering just what had happened to their connection.

And when Sue Sylvester walked in a few minutes later, practically giving Santana whiplash as she pulled her out for 'what I like to call _coma watching_,' Quinn's intuition twinged. She watched the Cheerio and her coach leave, and couldn't help but think that _maybe_, just maybe, she'd found one reason why God had changed his mind.

Maybe He'd moved on. Maybe _she_ should move on.

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**Author's note: Okay, so this chapter was soooo out of depth for me. You don't even know. She's a pregnant 16 year old, I'm definitely nottt. Plus this was just a filler chapter; I've always hated filler chapters. They're so boring. But I hope this was alright.**

**Like always, I try to be as much in character as possible. Unless you mean to, why write a fan fiction out of character, you know what I mean? **

**I also tried to keep this fic darker. I normally tried to fit in some prettyyyy prime lines, but, I don't know. Review if you like, whatever brah.  
**


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